First Blood (Bit of a story!)
It's just a little short story I worked on a while ago after my character killed his first human, warning, it's a bit long and a bit gory;
"I’ve never killed another man before so I had no idea what it was like. Surprising, isn’t it? I live in a wasteland of chaos and misery and yet I’ve never had to kill another living being for sustenance or protection since I woke up from Cryo about three weeks ago. I scavenged here and there, got really cold at one point but I found some clothes and kept warm. Saw some strange things; malformed people with strange, sized heads, werewolf like creatures that stalked the woods at night and the occasional looter from time to time. The former things were pretty rare, since I never strayed too far from any semblance of civilisation, but the latter were pretty abundant.
Sometimes I’d accidentally walk into the line of sight of someone, sometimes they’d stumble across me picking through a destroyed restaurant looking for tins of food, but most of the time we kept our distance from each other, fewer still were kind enough to even acknowledge my existence, but the last time was different. I had been scavenging for things of good price far to the west of the DMC; things like backpacks or ammo for guns that I didn’t have. I had bought a shotgun with a shoulder strap a few days prior, I had no idea how to shoot but I figured that I would learn quickly enough, right? I stumbled across a decent find in an old apartment building that was missing a few walls; a backpack, some multitools and a few rounds for some sort of pistol, so I had a few hundred worth in the pack I was holding. I was making my way back to a safe zone to trade it off for some medicine and a place to rest when I walked past a small neighbourhood. I figured it would be a good idea to see what I could find here since a few more shotgun shells would be great considering how expensive they were around Michigan.
I waited too long and attracted the attention of someone a few hundred meters down a ruined road, where the husks of old cars that held people fleeing the apocalypse lay. It was certainly human alright, and looking through the scope hanging around my neck made sure I could see what they were armed with. This individual, whose face was obscured by a blue scarf and a dark beanie, held another multitool that looked to be in bad condition judging by the large amount of duct tape wrapped around it.
“Hello there!” I yelled, waving with my free hand and holding the shotgun in a non-threatening position. “Are you alright?
No answer, the guy just kept running towards me, this time brandishing the blade high like he was going to attack me.
‘He can’t be that stupid?’ I thought, frowning and readying myself. ‘Surely he can see my gun? Maybe he’s just scared?’
But the individual charged regardless. I held my shotgun high in the air.
“I have a weapon, come no closer or I’ll shoot you!” I yelled in a firm, threatening voice. Deep down though, I was terrified. What if I missed? Worse; what if I hit?
The person continued, now just under a hundred meters away. I had to kill them; if the person reached me I was a dead man. I lifted the shotgun, brought the back of it to my shoulder and aimed down the little sights along the gun barrel. The chest of the person came into view and I fired a slug, letting out an almighty boom that echoed along the dead streets.
‘Crap crap crap...’
Another shot that had hit and tore a chunk of flesh out of the attackers arm after that, but now I was out of slugs. The individual stumbled and fell; I panicked, backing up whilst reloading the gun with buckshot.
‘Five rounds, close range... good odds in my favour.’
I took aim and fired again, but this one missed.
‘Another four shots, another four shots...’ I counted again and again in my head as I took aim.
The guy was only a few meters away, bleeding profusely from the missing chunk in his arm. He stood up, I took aim once more, this time going in for the kill.
I think it was instinct, mainly. Like I said, I’ve never killed anyone before at least as far as I can remember, but this time I knew I had.
After the boom from the shotgun and the blast that had stunned me, I saw something drop like a stone. It landed with a meaty thump and I could see the remnants of fine mist in the air where I had shot them. I slowly lowered the shotgun and looked down at the body in front of me; unmoving. The upper torso was red with... blood. I walked forward zombie like to where the person lay, bleeding from their head, or where a part of their head used to be anyway.
My hold on the rifle loosened and it hung just above the ground as I stared at the one remaining eye that was staring up at the sky. Her beanie had been blown off and I saw that her hair was cut short in a manner similar to a military buzz cut. Blood and brain matter were pouring out of her open skull where the buckshot had taken a chunk out.
I started shaking, not knowing what to do now. I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to kill her but... she rushed me. What was I supposed to do, let her kill me?
It had to have been the wasteland getting to me, and I still regret doing it, but I knelt down beside her and started searching her body; nothing much but her multitool and a few clothes, a good shoe... What was this...? A note detailing her recent life with the words Blue Frog popping up time and again. What was it? It probably didn’t matter anymore. She was dead and I was alive.
God... I was a common looter now, living off of other people’s misery.
After I was done I looked back at her unblinking eye, motionless and cold, staring up into the darkening sky. I blinked away a forming tear, steadied myself and made my way down the ruined road, a graveyard of the old world automobiles.
Never once did I look back."
Hope that was alright! I suppose this falls into the category of Fan-Fiction since I've added a bit here and there to make it interesting, although whatever you guys think about it I'd be happy to know about either way!